


Celebrities

by garlicbug



Category: Invisible Inc. (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 11:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8799547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garlicbug/pseuds/garlicbug
Summary: An up-and-coming actress has a brief conversation with a professional assassin.





	

Esther had been to a lot of 'events' by now, and this one barely rated six out of ten. She was always up for canapés, but she had met every guest who mattered three or four times already, and none of them were drunk, stimmed or bitchy enough to be entertaining tonight.

Parties weren't difficult, no matter how high the echelon. She was a celebrity now, and she still wanted to slap every celebrity whining about how 'hard' it was to be famous. She doubted many of them ever outran Plastech sweeper squads. There were one or two of them she would've liked to have seen try, even.

But parties _were_ tedious, she had been at the forefront of the entertainment industry for months now, and when she sensed the opportunity for a few moments away from cameras, she took it. She weaved between the clumps of paparazzi and party-goers, careful to not attract attention, and made it through the tall glass doors onto the terrace.

Only a handful of people were outside, talking in low voices. Corp business, probably, and they ignored Esther. A lone cleaning droid hovered anxiously for empty glasses, but the catering tables were mostly untouched. She picked up a glass of something sparkling and walked to the faux-marble balustrade, far away enough that the banal conversations became a comfortable murmur.

A few meters away, out of her reach, layers of perspex sealed this tacky mountainside villa away from the record-breaking air pollution. She spent a few moments simply breathing the chilled filtered air, enjoying the illusion of being outdoors. Her body blocked out the orange glare that the bubble reflected from the hall behind her. In her shadow, city lights twinkled through the haze, like very distant stars.

There was another silhouette in the perspex, taller and broader than her own. It was cast by the strange man she noticed earlier.

Close-up, she still didn't recognise him. He had the confidence of a high society veteran, but if he was a big name she would know him. Certainly handsome enough to be an actor, made apathy look real good--though probably too old for her, her personal no-picking-up-on-the-job policy aside. He stood tall and straight in an impeccable suit, and drank a glass of wine very slowly, watching the party indoors with professional, bored interest. Some people needed booze to function in this industry, but not only was this guy clearly just killing time, Esther was pretty sure he was not in show business.

He glared at Esther. "Can I help you?" Voice low and flat, a warning. A deep scar crossed his cheekbone under one eye. Almost _definitely_ not in show business.

Esther sipped her drink. "Am I interrupting?" She spoke softly, but she wouldn't break eye contact. People had tried to intimidate her all her life. It would take more than that for him to wave her away like a moth.

He looked her and her designer dress up and down in less than a second, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. An invitation to approach, or retreat.

It took Esther a few moments to realise why she felt surprised--he had appraised her as a potential threat, not a potential conquest. The novelty was so refreshing that it made her decision for her. She took a few steps and leaned against the railing within an arm's length of him. "My agent's always whispering to me about who's who at these things," she said. "But I haven't seen you before, and when I asked about you, he got cagey." She nodded towards him with a conspiratorial smile. "So I got curious."

"Shalem 11," he said. "I'm an assassin."

"Esther Martins." She switched the champagne flute to her left hand and held out her right to him. "I'm an actor."

Shalem 11--what a weird name--glanced at her hand. She flinched, and chided herself. _So he's an assassin, that doesn't mean he's going to break your arm, does it?_

He smiled and the spell abruptly broke. He looked good smiling, too, but she could tell a polite smile from a sincere one by now. His handshake was warm and well-practiced, as tailored as his suit. He must have been to _hundreds_ of these things, she realised. He could switch from killer to being just another rich, successful asshole in the crowd. Not so different from most celebrities in the end.

"I don't watch holovids, generally, but your name is familiar." Interesting accent though, now that he spoke full sentences. "What were you in, again?"

Was he for real? It felt like years since someone hadn't known her name. "Well..." She wondered if she could tease him. "You watch much science fiction?"

"No."

Yeah, too subtle. "Oh, I was in a war vid recently. The Istanbul Four." She was remembering she didn't like champagne, oh well. "Lead role."

"Hm." He seemed to recognise her at last, as _Esther Martins as Olivia Gladstone_ , and then he said, "I think I'd prefer science fiction."

Wow, he _was_ an asshole. "I just play a terrorist." Esther tilted her head back and met his gaze head-on. "I'm not actually killing people."

The crowd died down suddenly. No, it was her heartbeat pounding in her ears as the assassin silently regarded her. Was that too much? Shit, she knew her big mouth would get her in trouble one day. She never imagined she would die so immediately of it, though. Her agent was going to be pissed.

No, wait. Shalem 11's smile had become more sinister--but it reached his eyes, now. He was genuinely amused. "You react much better to my profession than a lot of people, you know," he was saying conversationally.

The feeling of relief and mischievous accomplishment mixed together... it reminded Esther of the riots. She hadn't thought of them for a long time. She felt giddy and a little sick. "I meet all sorts of people," she said with exaggerated casualness, framing the alcohol for her hesitation. "And unlike most of those rubes, it's not like I'll ever have to work with you, right?" She laughed loudly, abruptly, at how much of a dork she was being.

"Hopefully not." The deadpan way he said that, she couldn't tell if Mr 11 was joking too. But he was already passing his empty glass to her and straightening his jacket, which didn't need it. "While I'd like to talk more, I have an appointment, unfortunately." After a moment, he added, "Confidence is an asset, Esther. You should hold onto yours. Excuse me."

Esther watched him go. She stayed outside, alone and drinking fruit punch from a wine glass. Her agent only found her and whisked her away after the muffled sounds of rifle shots and screaming.

**Author's Note:**

> I love the data logs for Shalem 11 and Prism so hard
> 
> I may revise this a few times as I haven't posted anything public for ages and I feel very rusty (read: self-conscious)


End file.
